


Beaver Fever

by theleaveswant



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bad Jokes, Canada, Crack, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, POV Outsider, Puppets, Queer Gen, Science Boyfriends, Science Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleaveswant/pseuds/theleaveswant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce has just returned from Canada and Tony is brat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beaver Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted for sabinelagrande's Look the Other Way Thingathon on November 7, 2012.

"Bruciekins!" Tony greeted him with an arm thrown around his shoulder, steering Bruce and his rolling suitcase together into the lounge. "Did you enjoy your stay in America's hat?"

Thor looked in confusion at Jane, who leaned across the table and whispered an explanation, "Bruce just got back from a research trip to Canada--that's the country to the north of here. It covers a larger geographic area than the United States but has a much lower population."

"Was it cold?" Tony barrelled enthusiastically forward without waiting for an answer to his previous question.

Bruce snorted. "Well, it was Toronto in July, so no, not at all."

Tony flopped down on a low sofa and patted the seat next to him, still grinning. "Did you sleep in an igloo?"

Bruce slowly lowered himself onto the cushion next to Tony. "I slept in the hotel JARVIS booked for me."

"Did you run into Rogers' Canadian cousin?"

" . . . Captain Canada?" Bruce frowned.

"Dudley Do-Right."

"Ah." Bruce rolled his eyes. "Fortunately not, as he is, in fact, a fictional character."

"What aboot Celine Dion?"

"I thought she moved to Las Vegas? And I don't think I've ever heard an actual Canadian say 'aboot' like that."

"I'll bet you got stuck to a maple tree."

"I don't know if there are that many sugar maples in Toronto? I think they mostly grow farther east. Also, tapping season is in the winter and you actually have to stick a spiggot into the tree to get at the sap and then render that into syrup. They don't just, like, ooze . . ." Bruce trailed off when he saw the way Tony had begun to pout. "What?"

"You're shattering all my illusions, here, Brucie darling. Really rocking the foundations of my worldview."

"Fine." Bruce sighed and bit his lip, his body language shifting subtly from his usual 'deadpan' into something closer to 'deadly serious'. "There was one day . . . I had to get from Edmonton to Halifax for a meeting, so I rented a moose to get me there, and as I was riding it across the tundra we got trapped in this freak blizzard--no warning, total whiteout. I had to trust my moose to know where he was going, because I couldn't see a thing. I just hunkered down into his fur to keep warm and shut my eyes to block out the snow . . . and then I heard it. Far away at first, then closer, and closer still." Bruce paused and slapped his palms against his thighs, clap, clap, clap-clap. Thor found himself leaning forward, captivated, his breakfast all but forgotten.

Bruce licked his lips and continued, "they were all around us, signalling to each other with their tails as they closed us in. Gord, the moose, bucked and threw me and ran off into the storm. I lost sight of him almost immediately. And then they were on me, dozens of them, with their beady little eyes and leathery tails and their sharp, chisel teeth, shaking the snow from their wet, glistening fur . . . The Other Guy managed to run them off, but by then it was already too late." Bruce's eyes scrunched shut and he curled in on himself, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I'm infected, Tony. They bit me. I've got . . . I've got Beaver Fever."

Thor jumped, startled, as Tony lost his internal struggle to keep a straight face and guffawed, laughing so violently that Bruce had to remove his glasses to wipe flecks of spittle off them with his shirt. "Let me get somebody over here to help you out with that." Tony turned away from Bruce to lean over the arm of the couch, snapping his fingers for JARVIS to activate the nearest camera. "Hey, Pepper?"

Jane rolled her eyes and wiped toast crumbs from her fingers disapprovingly, suggesting that Tony had said something crass and unfunny. Thor prepared to give him a disappointed look when Tony turned back around and shrieked.

"What did you--" Tony jibbered from the floor where he'd landed, pushing awkwardly up onto his elbows to glare at Bruce.

"'Hi, Tony,'" Bruce squeaked, wiggling the head of the beaver puppet he'd shoved in Tony's face and waving its plush little paw.

"You son of a . . ." Tony pushed up onto his knees and shoved Bruce by the shoulders into the back of the couch before standing up. "Why are its teeth red?"

Bruce frowned at the puppet, which scratched its fluffy rodent head. "Oh, that's from those ketchup-flavored potato chips Barton asked me to bring back for him. I got bored in the airport, decided to try a few. You know, they're not as nasty as I expected."

Tony sighed and pulled the beaver puppet off of Bruce's hand before he hugged him. "I really wish I could say the same thing about you."


End file.
